The Apple Bandit

by Carolyn Keene

  The girls started climbing the hill. Along the way they passed several food stands. Nancy and George stopped to buy apple turnovers. But Bess shook her head when they offered her some.

  “No, thanks,” she said. “I’m so full from all that applesauce that I—”

  She was interrupted by a flurry of loud barks, followed by an angry shout. “Uh-oh,” George said. “What’s going on up there?”

  Nancy didn’t answer. She was looking ahead at several large, barking dogs. An angry-looking young woman wearing a River Heights Kids Apple Festival T-shirt was shouting at a pair of teenage boys who stood in front of her. Apples littered the ground nearby.

  “I wonder what’s happening,” Bess whispered, sounding a little nervous.

  Nancy’s detective mind was already putting two and two together. “Those must be the farm dogs,” she whispered back. “I bet those kids were messing around with them or something, and got caught.”

  Just then Mr. Helmer came rushing up the hill. “What is it, Sandy?” he asked the woman in the T-shirt.

  She pointed to the boys. “These hooligans were picking apples off the trees in the orchard without paying for them,” she said. “Then they were using them to play fetch with your dogs.”

  “Nancy, you were right,” George whispered.

  Nancy smiled. Even if it was a small mystery, it was still fun to solve it. She listened as Mr. Helmer scolded the boys.

  “. . . and I’m afraid you’re not welcome at the festival anymore,” he finished sternly. “You’ll have to leave now.”

  “Whatever,” one of the boys muttered. “It’s boring here anyway.”

  “Yeah, but you better watch it,” the other boy spoke up sullenly. “It’s not very nice to kick out your customers. I’m going to tell my parents never to buy your apples again!”

  “Especially your stupid River Heights Red,” the first boy added. “I bet it tastes like dirt!”

  “All right, that’s enough.” Mr. Helmer’s voice sounded angry. “Let’s go, boys.”

  As he marched them off down the hill, Nancy and her friends looked at one another. “Wow,” Bess said. “Those boys were troublemakers!”

  “Never mind them,” George said. “Let’s go see the ponies. It’s getting late!”

  The girls continued on their way. At the top of the hill, they saw a round pen set up in a small but pretty meadow. Four cute, shaggy ponies were walking around the outside, led by several teenage girls. A few trees provided shade at one end of the pen, and nearby someone had set up a large water tub and a pile of hay. Several people were standing in line waiting for rides, while others were looking at the hilly scenery on the far side of the pen.

  “Wow, there’s a good view from up here,” Nancy said. She walked past the pony pen to get a better look over the side of the hill. She saw a large, fast-moving creek below.

  George followed, though she stayed well back from the edge. “Yeah,” she said. “Just don’t fall over that cliff. It’s a long way down!”

  Bess was more interested in the ponies than the view. “Aren’t they adorable?” she cooed. “And look at their nice little pen! This is a great place for ponies.”

  Nancy giggled. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Grass, water, sun—it’s practically a pony paradise!”

  One of the pony-ride workers overheard Nancy. Her nametag read MARCIE.

  “It is nice here, isn’t it?” she said with a smile. “I bet our ponies are happy they get to spend the whole weekend here instead of their boring old pasture.”

  “You mean they’re staying here overnight, too?” Bess asked.

  The older girl nodded. “That way we don’t have to bring them back and forth for each day of the festival.”

  Marcie hurried off to help the next customer onto a pony. Nancy and her friends took their places at the end of the line.

  Nancy noticed that Bess was staring at the coupon in her hand, frowning a little. “Are you still upset about the contest?” Nancy asked.

  Bess shrugged. “Not really,” she said. “That red-haired kid could really eat.” She smiled. “And it was fun, even if I didn’t win.”

  “Good.” Suddenly Nancy remembered the scowling woman in the fruit jacket. “Hey, but I noticed one person who wasn’t having much fun.” She quickly described the woman to her friends.

  George nodded. “I saw her too,” she said. “That’s Mrs. Cherry. She owns that other orchard over near the river. You know—Fruity Acres? My parents know her.”

  “Really?” Nancy said. “Does she always look that grumpy?”

  George shrugged. “I don’t think so,” she said. “Maybe she’s upset that there are so many people here at the festival. She might be worried about losing all her customers.”

  By now the girls were getting closer to the front of the line. Bess was paying more attention to the passing ponies than to her friends’ conversation.

  “Ooh, I like that one.” Bess pointed to a shaggy little brown-and-white pinto pony. “He’s so sweet!”

  Marcie happened to be leading a different pony past them just then. She heard what Bess had said and smiled. “Are you talking about H-Two-Oh?” she asked. “He’s everyone’s favorite.”

  Bess wrinkled her nose. “H-Two-Oh?” she repeated as the girl moved on out of earshot. “That’s a funny name for a pony.”

  “That is a funny name,” Nancy said. “H-Two-Oh—that’s another way to say ‘water.’ Who names a pony Water? Do you think we heard her wrong?”

  “I don’t know.” George grinned. “Does this count as a mystery?”

  But Bess wasn’t listening. She had turned away from the ponies and was staring over the edge of the drop-off.

  “Hey!” she cried, suddenly sounding excited. “Look, you guys! I just solved the mystery!”

  4

  Another Mystery

  Huh?” Nancy asked, confused. “What mystery? Do you mean the mystery of the pony’s funny name? I thought we were joking about that.”

  “No, no.” Bess waved her hands impatiently. “Come and look at this!”

  Nancy and George stepped over to look down the hill to where Bess was pointing. “What?” George asked. “What are we supposed to be looking at? Trees? The creek? What?”

  “No, lean this way a little.” Bess moved aside to give her friends room. “Now look straight down, about halfway toward the creek.”

  Nancy gasped as she finally saw what Bess was talking about. “Hey, are those apples down there?”

  Sure enough, there were several wooden bushel baskets full of bright red apples tucked into a little plateau on the steep hillside. The apples were almost completely hidden from view by the trees and bushes. But by looking down from their special spot, it was easy for Nancy, Bess, and George to see them.

  “Those must be the River Heights Reds,” Nancy guessed. “Mr. Helmer said he hid them, right?”

  Bess nodded. “Right,” she said. “That’s a pretty good hiding place!”

  Nancy glanced over her shoulder at the fat ponies marching around the ring. “I don’t know,” she joked. “It seems pretty dangerous to me, hiding them so close to the ponies—I bet they love apples!”

  “I think it’s more dangerous to hide them anywhere Bess might find them,” George added with a grin.

  Bess stuck out her tongue at her cousin. “Very funny,” she said. “Come on, we’d better turn around so nobody figures out what we’re looking at. I don’t want to give away Mr. Helmer’s hiding place.”

  As they turned back to face the ponies, Nancy saw that they were next in line. “I think we’re just in time,” she said, glancing up at the sky. It was streaked with orange and pink and red as the sun started to set. “It will be getting dark pretty soon.”

  George checked her watch. “We need to be back down at the entrance to meet Mom in about twenty minutes.”

  “That gives us plenty of time for our ride,” Bess said. “Me first!”

  Soon the three girls were aboard thre
e of the ponies. Bess got to ride H2O, the little pinto with the funny name. Nancy rode on a cute bay pony named Fred, and George got to try a chestnut with white socks, known as Ginger. Since they were the last ones in line, the workers gave them an extra-long ride.

  “Thanks,” Nancy said as she hopped down from the saddle. “That was fun. And thank you too, Fred.” She gave her pony a pat on the neck.

  Then she joined her friends. The pony handler, Marcie, had already removed the saddle from one of the ponies and was setting it on the metal rails of the pen.

  “Do you have a lot of work to do to get them ready to spend the night here?” George asked her.

  “Not too much,” Marcie replied. “We just have to untack them and make sure their water tub is full and they have enough hay. Oh, and make sure the gate is shut tight, of course. We don’t want loose ponies running down to the orchard to eat all the apples off the trees!”

  The three friends giggled. Since Marcie was so friendly, Nancy decided to ask about H2O’s unusual name. Before she could, though, she saw the little spotted pony grab a mouthful of hay from the pile—and dunk it into the water tub! He lifted it up, dripping wet, and slurped it into his mouth. Then he reached for another chunk of hay and did the same thing.

  “Look!” Nancy pointed out the pony’s behavior to her friends. “I think I just solved the mystery of H-Two-Oh’s funny name.”

  Marcie heard her and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that’s why they named him H-Two-Oh,” she said. “It’s cute, but it’s kind of a pain in the neck too. H-Two-Oh gets the water in the tub all gunky—we have to dump and refill it every day even if they don’t drink it all. Otherwise it looks like a swamp!”

  Nancy smiled. Even from where she was standing, she could see that the water in the tub was looking a little murky.

  She watched H2O dunk another bite of hay. Then she heard Bess gasp. “What’s wrong?” Nancy asked her friend.

  “Is my watch right?” Bess asked, holding it out for her friends to see. “Because if it is, we’re late!”

  Nancy leaned over to get a closer look at Bess’s wrist—her watch said four forty-five on the dot. And it was a five-minute walk back down the hill to their meeting spot.

  “Uh-oh,” Nancy said. “Come on, we’d better run!”

  The three girls said good-bye to Marcie and took off at top speed, racing around the pony pen and down the hill. Most of the other visitors had already left the festival, so there were only a few people left wandering around.

  When they reached the entrance, the girls skidded to a stop and looked around. “Hey,” George said. “Where’s Mom?”

  Bess frowned. “Okay, this is a real mystery,” she said. “She’s never late!”

  Nancy glanced around the entrance area. There were about a dozen people nearby, but there was no sign of George’s mother.

  “I wonder where she—,” she began.

  “Girls! Here I am!” a breathless voice cried.

  Nancy turned and saw Mrs. Fayne rushing toward them. Chip was romping along at her heels.

  “Mom!” George exclaimed. “Where were you?”

  When they got closer, Nancy could see that Chip’s brown fur was slicked down and damp-looking. Mrs. Fayne stopped and gave her a guilty smile.

  “Sorry I’m late, girls,” she said. “Nancy, I’m afraid Chip got away from me—she pulled the leash right out of my hand! I spent the last half hour trying to find her.”

  Nancy bent down and patted her puppy’s soggy head. There was no mystery about where Chip must have been.

  “Let me guess,” she said with a grin. “You found her in the creek?” Nancy knew that Chip loved to play in the water.

  “That’s right. She was splashing around and having a great time.” Mrs. Fayne sighed. “I’m sorry, Nancy. All this time I was worried that you might lose hold of her. And then I’m the one to lose her!”

  Nancy smiled. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. She took hold of Chip’s leash, which was soaking wet. “Like my dad says, all’s well that ends well.”

  They walked to Mrs. Fayne’s car in the parking lot. While Mrs. Fayne was getting out her keys, Nancy bent down to try to brush some of the water off Chip’s coat. She was glad Mrs. Fayne had a blanket Chip could sit on so the whole car wouldn’t get wet.

  “Naughty puppy,” she said. “You know you’re not supposed to—hey, what were you eating, Chip?”

  George heard her and bent down to see. “What?”

  “Oh, nothing.” Nancy brushed at Chip’s muzzle. “It looks like Chip has a little apple goop around her mouth. I hope she didn’t steal someone’s applesauce or something—you know how she loves to eat!”

  Bess giggled. “That’s for sure! Remember the time she ate my mom’s straw hat?”

  Nancy smiled at the memory. But she couldn’t help feeling a little guilty, too. What if Chip really had eaten someone’s food? Or stolen an apple off one of the trees, like those mean boys?

  “You know, I think I might leave Chip home tomorrow when we come back here,” she said as she opened the back door of the car and helped the puppy jump in. “Just in case!”

  • • •

  The next morning the three friends—minus one mischievous puppy—arrived at the Apple Festival bright and early. It was another beautiful autumn day, and the parking lot was already crowded when they pulled in. Today Nancy’s housekeeper, Hannah Gruen, had driven them. Hannah had lived with the Drews ever since Nancy was three years old.

  “All right, girls,” Hannah said as they walked toward the entrance. “Your parents said it was okay for you to walk around by yourselves again. But you have to promise to stick together.”

  “Don’t worry, Hannah, we will,” Nancy said.

  The girls and Hannah parted ways just inside the festival. Hannah wandered off to look at some craft booths, while Nancy, George, and Bess headed for the information board.

  As they started discussing what to do first, the three girls heard a shout from nearby. Nancy looked up and saw Mr. Helmer rushing up to a pair of T-shirted festival workers. The orchard owner looked very upset.

  “Uh-oh,” Nancy whispered to her friends. “I wonder what’s wrong?”

  It wasn’t long before she had the answer to her question. Mr. Helmer stopped in front of the workers.

  “This is terrible!” he cried, waving his hands in the air. “Someone stole my River Heights Reds!”

  5

  The Missing Apples

  Nancy gasped. “Oh, no!” she cried. “You mean those apples we saw in the ravine are gone?”

  Mr. Helmer heard her and hurried over. “What did you say, young lady?” he asked. “Did you figure out my hiding place?”

  Nancy nodded and gestured to her friends. “We saw them,” she said. “Last night, from the pony paddock.”

  “We guessed they were the secret River Heights Reds,” Bess added. “But we weren’t sure.”

  “Well, you guessed right.” Mr. Helmer still sounded upset. “I just went to get them—I was going to display them today before the big eating contest finale. But when I got to the hiding spot, they were gone!”

  “Did you leave them out there in the woods all night?” George asked. “Maybe wild animals ate them or something.”

  “Impossible.” Mr. Helmer shook his head. “My dogs patrol the grounds all night. They chase away any varmint that sets paw on the place.”

  Nancy nodded thoughtfully, remembering the large dogs she’d seen yesterday. Those dogs did look capable of scaring off wild animals.

  “Besides,” Mr. Helmer went on, “what raccoon or skunk is going to eat those wooden baskets? They’re gone too! Nope, I’m afraid the thief is all too human. . . .”

  Nancy noticed Mr. Helmer glaring at something behind her. She turned and recognized Mrs. Cherry standing near the entrance. Today Mrs. Cherry wasn’t wearing her fruit-print jacket. Instead she wore a sweatshirt with the name of her orchard printed on it.

  “Irene!” Mr. Helm
er said, striding toward her. “What are you doing here?”

  “What do you mean, John?” Mrs. Cherry replied calmly. “This event is open to the public, isn’t it?”

  Mr. Helmer folded his arms over his chest. “That’s right,” he said. “No thanks to you and your meddling.”

  Mrs. Cherry rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, John,” she said. “I was only trying to help. If you’d tried to open this festival without a license, you could have been shut down.”

  Mr. Helmer shrugged. “Well, you still didn’t have to report me to the police,” he grumbled.

  Nancy’s eyes widened. “It sounds like those two have had some problems in the past,” she whispered to her friends. “Maybe Mrs. Cherry is trying to ruin Mr. Helmer’s festival so more people will go to her orchard.”

  “I seem to be missing my crop of River Heights Reds,” Mr. Helmer said to Mrs. Cherry. “Do you know anything about that?”

  “Are you accusing me of something, John?” Mrs. Cherry rolled her eyes and chuckled. “I don’t need to take your apples. I have plenty of my own.”

  Mrs. Cherry turned and moved off. She was still carrying the carved walking stick Nancy had noticed the day before. With each step she leaned on it heavily. Nancy could see that one of the woman’s legs was stiff and weak, causing her to limp.

  George noticed too. “Hmm,” she said quietly. “That hill we saw is pretty steep. Do you think Mrs. Cherry could climb down there?”

  “I don’t know.” Nancy bit her lip thoughtfully. “Maybe not. At least not very easily.”

  “Maybe she didn’t take the apples herself,” Bess suggested. “She might have asked someone else to help her.”

  “Maybe.” Nancy shrugged uncertainly. Mrs. Cherry seemed like a nice enough person—not exactly the apple-stealing sort. Then again, Nancy remembered the woman’s angry scowl during the applesauce-eating contest the day before. Could she be angry enough at Mr. Helmer to try to ruin his big day?

  Just then she noticed that Mr. Helmer was watching them. He was looking at Bess through slightly narrowed eyes, as if trying to remember who she was. Nancy gulped, remembering Bess’s comments at the contest.